


That's it, it's split (It won't recover)

by spiromachia



Series: Dream SMP AUs and Cannon Divergence [6]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Crying, Dave | Technoblade and Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, Depression, Gen, Ghost Wilbur Soot, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mentioned Alexis | Quackity, Mentioned Floris | Fundy, Mentioned Toby Smith | Tubbo, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sad TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Suicidal Thoughts, TommyInnit Angst (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit Misses Toby Smith | Tubbo, TommyInnit Swears (Video Blogging RPF), please dream you bastard, tommy just wants to go home :(
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:47:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27893308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiromachia/pseuds/spiromachia
Summary: "What's it like, Wilbur? Being dead?"The was a moment where the world stopped, Ghostbur visibly tensed and his brows furrowed, his mouth gaping slightly at the question. Technoblade tilted his head upwards almost unnoticeably, intrigued by the display."W-what do you mean, Tommy?" Ghostbur laughed."What's it like? Are you happier?"Or...Tommy really isn't taking this whole exile thing well.(TW: Mentions of suicidal thoughts)(Title from Call Them Brothers by Regina Spektor)
Relationships: Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Tommyinnit & Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Series: Dream SMP AUs and Cannon Divergence [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2149863
Comments: 35
Kudos: 1014
Collections: Completed stories I've read, Cute MCYT, Found family to make me feel something





	That's it, it's split (It won't recover)

"Goodbye, Tommy."

The words were spoken with finality, Tubbo's face cold as stone, purely blank as he watched without emotion. Dream clamped a hand around Tommy's bicep and pulled the boy along, who had spoken far less than anyone expected him to. They expected the norm, for him to yell and scream and try to rally support but instead his mouth remained gaping as he nearly tripped over his own feet, allowing his enemy to drag him away from his home.

Exiled. He had been exiled. 

_Again._

By his best friend.

Quackity stared with horror and guilt in his wide eyes, brow creased in shock, hand half outreached in the boy's direction, only being able to stand to the side uselessly as he watched Tommy be exiled again, right in front of his eyes. History is doomed to repeat itself, after all, "Tommy... I- I'm sorry... I don't know what to say-"

Fundy looked at the president with disgust, his teeth gritted so hard that his jaw began to ache in protest, a shocked glare painting his face. He turned back to the retreating duo, as Dream guided a mere teenager away from his home, his family, his everything. He felt sick, "What the actual _fuck_ , Tubbo?"

Meanwhile, Tommy was outside of his own body, eyes never leaving his friend, even though the other boy had long since looked away. His ears were filled with cotton, his limbs on autopilot as he followed along like a lifeless puppet, not willing to lie down like a dog but hardly able feel his own skin all the same. Distantly, he could hear talking, he remembered settling down in a boat and starting to row, following the blur of green in front of him. A cold hand pressed itself onto his shoulder, but he still couldn't feel himself enough to recognise the comforting chill of his dead brother's touch. They rowed for what seemed like hours, rain starting to lash down over their heads, rippling though the inky black ocean, until they reached a small chunk of land. 

He'd never felt so alone.

"I want to go home," he didn't care that his voice cracked, or that his words sounded like childish begging, "I don't- I don't want to be alone."

Dream ignored him, ordering him to throw his things into a pit of dirt, which Ghostbur did without question, innocently chucking all of his belongings into the hole, but Tommy held onto his netherite chest plate like a lifeline, determined to feel some semblance of safety. Some semblance of hope.

"If you don't, I'll kill you," the enemy ordered, his emotionless voice hardly ringing over the sound of rainfall.

"...for real?"

"For real."

It wasn't exactly uncommon knowledge that Tommy was on his last life, holding onto his existence by a thread, having lost his two previous lives to Dream in the L'manberg War. If he died right then and there, he might just die forever, forced to live on as a ghost without his memories and haunt those who wronged him for the rest of his days, to have everything that had shaped him and moulded him into the person he was today stripped from him in the blink of an eye. The scariest part of it all, the part that made his eyes widen and his teeth clench-

...was that he wouldn't have minded in the slightest.

He tucked his chin onto his knees, wrapping his arms around his legs in a fleeting attempt to warm himself. The rain had already seeped into his clothes, causing a bone deep chill to bleed into his skin, clinging his hair to his face and making his hands tremble underneath the makeshift dirt roof. Dream had left them with nothing, robbing them and leaving them to rot on the other side of the server without even a hint of remorse.

Outside, it began to rain harder.

He'd never felt so vulnerable, so completely and utterly alone. Sure, Ghostbur was there, but he spent most of his time muttering to himself about something or other, tapping away at him communicator to someone that Tommy couldn't give less of a damn about.

He should have paid more attention.

)()()(

When he was halfway into a cave, he heard footsteps behind him, the familiar sound of hoofs hitting stone rang through the small cavern. A man appeared in the small opening, wearing netherite armour, enchanted and glowing ominously in the darkness, as per usual. Tommy didn't remember the last time he'd seen him without it. Instead of his usual red, he wore a light blue cape, with golden lining and a red underneath. The Antarctic Empire colours.

"Well hello, Theseus."

"Oh for fucks sake! Why are you here?!" Tommy yelled, clawing desperately at some sense of familiarity, hoping that his loud words would hide the hollowness of his chest.

Techno laughed, loud and cruel, "HA! Look at this loser!" the smile was practically audible in his voice, "This is the funniest thing I've ever seen. Oh my _god_."

"Fuck you man! Leave!" the boy cried, "Leave!"

"Oh, OH he doesn't even have _shoes_ ," the older of the two teased, smirking to himself and continuing to laugh as Tommy pushed past him, up the stairs he had dug out into the cave system. The blond ignored the way his laugh seemed to tear at his insides like a knife twisting his guts.

The weather had long since cleared up, but the ground was still littered with puddles and patches of slippery mud. Wilbur approached from the side, hovering slightly above the ground with several birch logs in his arms, a wide smile on his face.

"Hey Technoblade!"

"Oh, hey Wilbur," the other greeted back, as if he hadn't just been laughing at his younger brother's traumatic situation.

Tommy felt rage boil up in his blood, filling up the empty void in his chest, "What the fu- I fucking hate you, you pig in a crown looking fucking pink prick!!"

Technoblade continued to laugh, "This great! Remember that time you gave up everything for your country and then it just exiled you at the first threat ohh that was hilarious."

Everything seemed to be grinding on Tommy's nerves, the grating sound of his other brother's voice, the sun that now beat down over his head, but unable to warm the coldness in his bones, the discomfort of his iron armour against his skin, the sound of his footsteps through the thick, grassy mud, the way his very clothes seemed to still stick to his body, not fully dried from the rainstorm. It was becoming _overwhelming_.

"Leave. Leave. Leave. Fuck you," he growled, ignoring the smug look he got in return, "Politely, die."

"It's Technoblade, it's Technoblade! Here, have some blue," Ghostbur smiled innocently, pushing some blue dye into his brother's hands.

"Yeahhh, have some food," Techno replied, handing him some golden carrots in return.

"Ooh, that expensive food," the ghost responded happily, shoving the carrots into his inventory with vigour. They were ignoring Tommy, like he wasn't there at all, like he wasn't desperate to be in the company of someone he didn't hate, who didn't hate him back.

"Leave us!" Tommy exclaimed, interrupting their moment, "Leave us, please! Leave us _alone_."

"Technoblade, we're gonna build a campsite, you wanna see?" Ghostbur, ever oblivious, guided the other towards the ocean.

"Why?! Just go away, just go! You're just here to mock us, man," the blond cried out.

The other two continued to ignore the youngest's pleas, which were slowly becoming more like begging, instead making their way onto the sands of the beach, "I was gonna make it by this little bit, by the sea, so we could boat out... because I want to go back to L'manberg soon. I want to visit my friends, don't you Tommy?"

Tommy could practically feel himself tense up, clenching his fists and taking a deep breath. He couldn't cry now, not in front of the Blade, who was practically glowing with an aura of superiority. He'd never hear the end of it if he did, "I... _want_ to."

"Well we can go back together!"

"No... no I can't..." he mumbled under his breath but his brother was already floating away, happily rambling about his plans for the campsite, ignorant to the way that Tommy's nose turned red in an attempt to keep himself from crying. He turned to Techno, feeling his annoyance begin to become unbearable, "Can you leave already?"

"Nah, I'm enjoying the show," he grinned, relaxing his posture with complacent satisfaction.

"What show?" Tommy challenged.

"The clown circus."

Tommy had felt rage before, he'd felt the way that it bubbled underneath his skin and tore at his chest, the urge to lash out sometimes too much to bare, but in that moment, he'd never felt a stronger inferno burning through his skin. Techno thought this was a _joke_. He thought that his little brother being exiled from his country, from his home, was a display that he could just sit back and watch with a bag of popcorn like a shitty film at a cinema. He didn't care.

He didn't _care._

Why the realisation hurt so _much_?

"Go away, _please_. Now," he stated, still trying to keep his composure. This wasn't the usual anger he felt during an argument over something petty, this was a choking fury, that threatened to tear down the walls that he had spent the past few weeks building back up, like New L'manberg from the ashes of Wilbur's destruction, threatening to force tears out of his eyes and make him collapse in a heap on the floor, choking and sobbing.

"I just wanna know, Tommy," Techno shrugged, "What are your plans going forward now that you've lost _everything_?"

"Shut up _. Leave_ ," he snarled, feeling himself crack at the seams.

"Nah, this is too amusin', where else am I gonna-"

"ARGH!!" Tommy cried out, gripping his hair with his hands and pulling with unhealthy amount of force, scrunching his eyes shut, "Can't you see we don't want you here?! Leave me ALONE!!"

"Tommy, stop doing that," Ghostbur reached forwards but the boy flinched away violently.

"Don't touch me!" he exclaimed, taking an unsteady step back, "You- you're just laughing, you're laughing!! Well FUCK YOU BITCH!! I don't need either of you two, so fuck off!!"

He turned to storm away, but suddenly the mud slid from under his feet, and the next thing he knew he was face down in the dirt with a thud, a jagged rock slicing along his arm from where it hid under sludge, because his day just couldn't get _any better_. He hissed in pain, distantly hearing laughter from behind him, knowing that his brothers were jeering at his attempt to be intimidating, knowing that they wouldn't be able to see the seeping wound he now wore like a soldier under the thick layer of mud.

"You sure you don't need us, Tommy?" Techno asked smugly as the boy slowly brought himself to his feet, clutching his bicep.

Tommy wiped the mire from his face with a grunt, "Just fuck off..." he muttered as he trudged away, towards a nearby freshwater lake and kneeling down by the water, slowly beginning the painstaking process of washing the grime off his body, ignoring the loud chatter of his brothers from the other side of the plains. As the mud washed away, he grimaced, looking at the mangled gash that travelled from his wrist to his elbow, blood oozing from the cut seemingly endlessly.

It had definitely cut into his vein. Deep enough for it to be potentially dangerous.

The water was cold on his arm, dousing the fiery pain that bled across him, soothing the wound as best it could and Tommy carefully rubbed his healthy hand along it, watching as the sludge rushed away into the lake. He couldn't reach the mud that had already trapped itself inside the injury, but he could deal with it later. At that moment, he just needed something to distract him. To ground him. The pain was another thing to add onto the long list of sensations that overwhelmed him, on top of the sensation of literally just _existing_.

As he stared down at the gash, he watched the blood continue to drip like a waterfall into the pool below, but he didn't do anything about it. He felt numb. The thought of bleeding out used to terrify him, the mere idea shaking him to his very core. It used to make him carry extra food in his pocket, just in case of an emergency, he used to ask people to go mining with him in case he was overwhelmed by mobs, but now it didn't feels so scary. He glanced back over the field, where Ghostbur chatted happily with his brother, oblivious to his mistakes, always optimistic, able to see the good in everyone. Dying made him happier. Dying made him forget everything that had ruined him.

Dying had _helped_ him.

Why couldn't it do the same for Tommy?

He realised that he was starting to get lightheaded, the water around him was pink with his own blood and he brought a hand up to his face to wipe more mud away when his hand brushed his bandana.

 _Tubbo's_ bandana.

He'd lost so much, both of his brothers, one to death, one to anarchy, his father had sided with his favourite son _again_ , his idol, who now lay six feet underground, had betrayed him and become a dictator, even his old friend, Wisp had betrayed him for the Antarctic Empire a long, long time ago, it seemed that everyone that he loved felt some sort of need to turn their backs on him. It was like a curse. He'd lost so many people, and yet the one that hurt the most was Tubbo. Since the beginning, it had been the two of them, Tommy and Tubbo against the world, but now they were separated by war and by hate. He'd left Tommy to rot out in the wilderness, where anything could happen to him. Left him to the wolves.

But _fuck_ if Tommy didn't still care about him.

His grip on the fabric tightened and he hardly even noticed as his face contorted and fat tears began to roll down his cheeks. He'd reached an all time low, that was just the fact of the matter. It was one of the things he prided himself on, the ability to always getting back up onto swaying feet in the face of defeat, refusing to die, refusing to lose, but here he was, sitting by a lake in some unknown location, contemplating leaving everything behind for a life of blissful ignorance but _god_ if that didn't sound amazing.

He'd earned the right to be selfish, the right to be happy, so didn't he have to right to do what was best for himself? What's best for Tubbo? Because ultimately, the president was right. Tommy was a liability to the nation, a constant threat of chaos and war, a constant reminder of all they had lost and he needed to go. He was still a threat while he was out here, he would never be anything more than a liability.

_("P.A.N. or Public enemy number 1. You were the most likely traitor out of all of us."_

_"You couldn't do one thing for me!! Not one!!"_

_"Tommy you are herby exiled from L'manberg."_

_"THE DISCS DON'T MATTER, TOMMY!!"_

_"Goodbye, Tommy.")_

Hardly noticing the way his entire body had begun tense, he cried out in anguish, in pain, in pure despair, "GOD DAMN IT!!" slamming his non-injured fist into the mud by his side, ignoring the blooming ache in his knuckles and ignoring the volume of his voice, "I JUST WANT TO BE OKAY FOR ONE FUCKING DAY!! IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK?!"

His breathing was becoming laboured, unable to control anything in his moment of hysterics, unable to do anything at all as his vision blurred for a moment, a sickening nausea swirling in his stomach.

"I just... I just want to be okay," he mumbled to himself, only just hearing the approaching voices from behind him.

At the sound of other humans, he muted his breathing as best he could, gritting his teeth to the point that they immediately began to ache, and set his face into a blanc expression. He didn't want his brothers to see him worked up and emotion. They're just make fun of him more. Thinking fast, he pulled his bandana from his neck and quickly wrapped it around his arm as a makeshift bandage, knowing that the green would soon become a crimson red.

"You good, Tommy?" Techno asked, and to anyone else, they might have been confused by his blatant concern, but Tommy had known him long enough to recognise the mocking tone.

"I'm fine... fuck off," he cursed himself for slurring his words keeping his back turned away from his brothers.

"Tommy? Are you okay?" Ghostbur asked, bending down to his level with curiosity, "You're not on drugs are you? I didn't even know we were allowed drugs here- oh, have some blue!"

The boy was basically on autopilot as he took the dye from his brother with trembling hands, holding it carefully in his lap, "Thank you, Wilb- Ghostbur."

He stared blankly down at the lapis with unfocused eyes, all too aware of the fabric of the bandana catching on the edges of his wound, knowing that soon, the blood would begin to seep through, but still not particularly caring.

"Well, this has been fun," Techno yawned, stretching his arms above his head, "As much as I love making fun of you, I have to get back. I'll come by again sometime, this was great."

 _'Please don't leave'_ a traitorous part of Tommy whispered, _'I don't want to be alone. Please.'_

"Aww, bye bye then. See you soon?" Ghostbur asked with a childish tilt of the head.

"Yeah, probably. Wouldn't want to miss Tommy wallowing in his own misery," Techno jeered, but there was a semi awkward silence afterwards, as the boy didn't say a word in response, "... yeahh... I'll just, you know, leave."

If Tommy had been paying more attention, he may have noticed the way the man's eyes lingered on the oddly placed bandana, wrapped around his arm.

"Bye bye! Tommy, say bye bye," the ghost smiled, nudging the boy gently.

The blond turned his head slowly to the side, looking up into his brothers eyes with a blank, emotionless stare, all energy stripped away from him. He was so fucking tired, "Goodbye, Technoblade."

The man stared right back at him, an unreadable expression on his face under his piglin mask, "You good, man?" he asked with a huffed laugh, but it held no humour.

"Yeah, Tommy, you seem sad. Is the blue not working?" Wilbur knelt down in the grass as best he could cupping his brother's face in his hands, almost surprised when he didn't pull away, "Jeez, you're so cold... and pale- Tommy-"

"What's it like, Wilbur? Being dead?"

The was a moment where the world stopped, Ghostbur visibly tensed and his brows furrowed, his mouth gaping slightly at the question. Technoblade tilted his head upwards almost unnoticeably, intrigued by the display.

"W-what do you mean, Tommy?" Ghostbur laughed.

"What's it like? Are you happier?" 

No one knew, but a bad feeling began to grip at Techno's stomach, and his chest felt tight. The man narrowed his eyes, watching his brothers with a calculating gaze, his flickering eyes hidden beneath a mask.

"Well... I mean- I can't remember anything bad about my real life, but I know it must have sucked," the ghost explained, looking away, "So I guess I'm happier now. Why?"

The youngest looked his sibling with unfocussed, expressionless eyes, "No reason, Wilby... no reason."

"Tommy..." Ghostbur started, but the boy began to lift himself up, struggling to his feet and ignoring the looks of concern he received, as his legs trembled weakly under his weight.

That's when the world tilted on it's side.

Suddenly, his vision went black, spots danced at the sides of his vision and everything went completely numb. Distantly, he heard someone cry out, he felt himself start to fall before strong hands prevented his head from hitting the floor. 

"Tommy!"

The sound of muffled voices echoed through his mind, but his head was filled with cotton. He couldn't see. He couldn't feel. He just _couldn't_. Everything hurt while feeling empty at the same time as sleep placed it's bony hands over Tommy's eyes and dragged him towards unconsciousness, whispering soft promises of safety and security into his ear. Sleep was something that seemed to evade him, no matter how hard he tried, nightmares waking him at every hour, or the lack there of forcing him to spend his time staring up at the ceiling, not truly seeing, thinking about some other time or place.

_("WHITE FLAGS! WHITE FLAGS, OUTSIDE YOUR BASE, BY TOMORROW, AT DAWN, OR YOU ARE DEAD!!"_

_"Down with the revolution boys... it was never meant to be."_

_"YOOOOOOOO SUCK IT GREEN BOY!!!"_

_"-is to revoke the citizenship, of Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit!!"_

_"-cause it's you and me against the world, pal."_

_"Did someone say rebellion?"_

_"Then let's be the badguys."_

_"Tommy, I'll have to step in..."_

_"I say, if we can't have Manberg, NO ONE!! NO ONE CAN HAVE MANBERG!!"_

_"Tubbo... Tubbo I'm sorry... I'll make it as painless as possible."_

_"It's just like I said, no one's on our side!"_

_"-the only universal language is violence and we've had that conversation."_

_"After all this time, it was meant to be!!"_

_"Kill me, kill me. Stab me with the sword, murder me now, kill me."_

_"You want be a hero Tommy? Then DIE LIKE ONE!!"_

_"Goodbye Tommy."_

_"-now that you've lost everything?")_

Someone snapped their fingers in front of his face, causing him to blink blearily.

"Tommy- Tommy get up, look at me- shit-" Techno cursed under his breath, his mouth twisted with an emotion that Tommy couldn't quite place. It was strange, seeing his usual blank face so open and readable, "What happened?"

Distantly, the boy realised that Ghostbur was gone.

"M arm... it's fuckin'-" he trailed off, his gaze glancing off over his brother's shoulder, not able to focus on anything in particular.

"I need you to say awake, okay Tommy? You need to stay awake. Phil will be comin' back soon, you'll be fine," the man rambled to himself nervously. Why did he sound so anxious? Tommy hardly noticed as a scarred hand gripped onto his arm, tightening the improv bandage around his wound to stop the bleeding, or the back of another hand pressing against his forehead.

His body felt light, dethatched, like someone had pulled a veil of wool over his eyes. Maybe being stuck in the rain the day before had done more to him than he'd expected.

"How do you know when it's too much?" the boy asked into the air, his voice quiet and cold, an innocent question hanging in the silence for a few moments.

"What?"

"How do you know when it's all too much?" he repeated, blue eyes meeting the whited out holes of a mask.

"I- I don't know what ya' mean," Techno replied with a breathy laugh to cover his uncertainty. 

"Would I be happier? If I was like Wil?" Tommy asked, "I'd never have to- I'd be happy."

"It wouldn't be worth it," and the masked man hated the way that his stomach felt like it had been raked through, how seeing his little brother, knelt on muddy knees by his side, contemplating ending everything, made his hands tense and his heartrate increase. He _hated_ it.

"I'm alone, Technoblade. No one would care."

"They do care-"

"Then why have I lost everything?" Tommy nearly choked on a sob, letting tears fall down his face in front of another human being for the first time in weeks, "Why is it that everyone I love has to betray me? Am I cursed? Is it me?"

Techno hesitated, "Good things... good things don't happen to heroes, Tommy."

"I never wanted to be a hero. I just wanted L'manberg."

"No one wants to see you die."

"Why?" and the teenager would never know how much that one word question tore his brother apart.

"Because they care about you. All of them, no matter how they choose to show it."

" _They_?"

There was another, long, tense moment of silence between them, the wind whipping through the nearby trees.

"I just feel so tired..." Tommy explained lowly, "Like I'm not- I'm not really here. I'm just... numb? I'm outside my own... my own body. I'm so fucking empty, man," he chuckled darkly, "I used to be so angry and shit but now I just... what do you do when you've lost everything? I don't- I don't know what to do. Everything is numb I can't- Is there... is there something wrong with me? Am I broken?"

"You're not broken. What's goin' on here... it's... it happens to the best of us, okay? Just hang on."

"Why do you sound so fucking nervous?" Tommy asked, "It wouldn't matter if I-"

"Stop. Just- just wait for Phil to get here, alright?"

"Why do you care? You told me to die anyway," the boy spat, "Die like a hero and all that."

Techno looked down at him with his lips pressed into a firm line, "I was _tryin'_ to prove a point. You can't get anywhere trying play hero. It was a warning."

"It was a threat," Tommy corrected, only just making out the words against the ringing in his ears, "Can't you just admit that you hate me and move on?"

Maybe Technoblade replied, but the teenager wouldn't have known, as he felt his stomach lurch with nauseous sickness and his head began to spin. The world was turning blurry again, and he had to put his hands out in front of him to prevent himself from collapsing fully into the mud.

"F-fuck..."

He was so fucking _tired._

"Just hold on," he heard someone say, but his mind was too fuzzy, a pounding headache blooming at his temples. A hand placed itself onto his shoulder, but it felt like hot coals on his body; he smacked it away.

"Can't you jus' let me fuckin' _die_?"

The sound of fast approaching footsteps only just reached his ears, and he heard someone call out distantly, but his body wouldn't respond to him. Two more figures appeared by his side, a familiar chill and familiar warmth carried along with them.

Someone said his name, but sleep's grip finally dragged him underwater.

)()()(

The first thing he felt was warmth.

Which was strange, because all he ever seemed to feel was cold.

He groaned, ready and willing to ignore the crushing throb at the side of his head, glancing around the unfamiliar room he found himself in. The walls were made of stone and wood, two tall and thin windows with trapdoors for shutters decorating either side. The room was small. Cosy, with not much furniture in it other than a medium sized chest of draws, a crafting table and a stool by the bedside, which happened to be sat on by a translucent figure.

"W-Wil?" Tommy muttered, rubbing his eyes and propping himself up against the head board. A wet cloth dropped down from his forehead, "Where... Wil, where are we?"

The ghost blinked, sitting upright with a smile, "Tommy! You're awake! You were out for a while."

"Where are we?" he asked again, holding back a grunt of discomfort.

"Oh, we're at Techno's place," Tommy's blood froze in his veins as he pulled his hand away from his eyes, "Although, you wouldn't know seeing as you were-"

"Technoblade?!" the boy cried, before planting his face in his hands and groaning, "Ughh! Why him?! Why him of all people?!"

"Don't be like that, Tommy," Ghostbur patted him on the shoulder, sending a shiver down his spine, "He helped you! You were bleeding pretty badly after all."

"What if I didn't want to be helped," he snapped, holding up his arm, which was wrapped in multiple layers of gauze, "What if I didn't want this?"

His brother looked at him with sympathetic eyes, "He was just trying to be nice. You got really sick afterwards."

"Yeah, I can fuckin' tell," Tommy winced as the pounding in his head continued, "Tends to happen after a wound gets chock full of shit."

Outside the door, they could hear footsteps ascending stairs, and the wood door opened to reveal a relieved looking Philza, now adorned in light blue and regal red, "Tommy! Mate!" he approached the bed, "You're awake, Jesus Christ."

And as much as Tommy resented him, for leaving him behind, all alone, to take care of Techno, he couldn't supress the giddy grin that crossed his face when his dad wrapped him up in his arms, clipped wings wrapping around him like a soft, weighty blanket, grounding him in the moment, just like it did when he was a child.

He felt warm.

"Tommy, holy fuck. You scared the shit out of me," the man sighed into his neck, "Don't pull that type of shit again or I swear to god-"

He was cut off by his son's shoulders beginning to shake, repressed sobs lurching his body violently, his hands balled into fists in his shirt, "Dad I-" his grin morphed into a stretched grimace, gritting his teeth in a fleeting attempt to stop the tears that poured from his eyes, "Dad..."

"Oh, Tommy," Phil smiled sadly, holding him closer to his chest and running a soothing hand through his hair, "You've been through a lot, haven't you..."

"Is... fuck- Is there something wrong with me?" the child asked, a whimper present in his voice, "I think- I think I'm broken dad I-"

"You're not broken, don't be stupid," his dad replied, continuing to rake his fingers across his head, "You're hurt, not broken. You're scared, not shattered. You've been through things no kid should have to go through. So much responsibility has been placed on your shoulders. Too much responsibility."

"I don't- I don't," he choked on his words, "I don't get it. What's wrong with me? I'm supposed to be happy not- not-"

"You're not supposed to be anything. And that's what I mean, too much weight," Phil cut him off, closing his eyes and placing his chin on his son's temple, "I'll tell you what's wrong. You've been through so much and it's gotten to your head. You can't go the rest of your life pretending to be fine, when you're not, and that's okay. You don't have to shout. You don't have to scream. You can, if you want to, but if it all gets too much then I don't mind sitting in silence with you."

Behind Phil, Tommy could just about make out another figure, standing in the doorway.

"I'm so fucking tired, Phil," the boy muttered, wrapping his arms around his father's neck, burying his head in the fur of his cape, "I can't do this anymore..."

"Tommy, I need to look at me," and Tommy felt his stomach almost drop as the other pulled away, looking into his eyes and wiping a stray tear with his thumb, "That's not an option, okay? That's _never_ an option. You lose this life, you lose everything, so don't even think about it."

"But... how do you know when it gets too much?" he whimpered, asking the same question as before, and Phil felt his heart clench, "Everything is empty and I can't feel my fingers and I'm trying my best but it's just not enough-"

"You will always be enough," the man gripped his son's shoulders, something akin to desperation in his eyes, "No matter what happens, you'll always be my son. _Always_. I-... I don't know what I'd do if I lost two of you."

Tommy felt something be pressed into his hands and he turned to see Ghostbur, a tiny smile on his face, handing him some dye, "You want some blue?"

Something inside him cracked, finally allowing the dam to be breached as he held it tightly to his chest, curling in on himself so shoulders hunched and his back bent, "Why the fuck is this- is this happening to _me_?! I never wanted this, I never WANTED THIS! I just wanted L'manberg- I just-"

And he felt strong, warm arms wrap around him again, and another, cold hand lay gently on his back, and somewhere in the same room, a man placed a tray of food and water on the bedside table, unable to bring himself to comfort the crying child.

"I... I think I'd be happier..." the arms tensed, "I wouldn't remember the bad things, I'd-"

"But then you'd forget so much... and besides, who knows if you would become the same type of ghost as Wil? You could, maybe, only remember the bad parts, or just not- just not come back at all, Tommy. I need you to promise that you won't... you won't try anything, okay?" Philza sounded like he was almost begging, "You can't leave all this behind. You can't leave _us_ behind."

"... the only promises people have ever made for me have been broken," Tommy stated, his voice dull and exhausted.

"Please... just for me, okay mate?" 

"Okay... I- I promise."

The blue in his hands became more saturated.

**Author's Note:**

> The president stared up at the sky, watching the purple clouds roll by as dusk swept across the country, the sun painting the sky with bold oranges and reds, a bright, glowing ball of gold slowly disappearing over the horizon and casting long shadows along the floor. The bench felt cold against his face, colder than it had ever felt when he was alone, despite the fact that he was wearing several layers. Why was it so freezing?
> 
> There was no music. No Cat. No Mellohi.
> 
> He pulled a worn, crimson bandana from his pocket and held the red fabric up in front of his eyes. It was torn at the edges, but mostly well kept.
> 
> "We'll get though this, Tubbo. You and me. I'll always be by your side."
> 
> He grit his teeth and clutched his friend's old cloth close to his chest, bringing it right up to his face and allowing it to soak up his tears.
> 
> ...he'd really fucked up, hadn't he?


End file.
